Blame The Weather

Morning came; the sun? Not in sight
Early on, I felt something not right
Lying there, asking "Why?"
As I looked at the sky
No sign of warm morning light.
Cool, damp zephyrs licked all round my head
Having, with them, subliminal dread
Over us, a grey sky
Looked like it may cry
Yet perennially just sulked, instead

Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Judgement shall come from Him over us all
Eternal Lord and God so very just
So we now view Him with a noble awe
Until we face His throne (which we all must)
Some day we'll bow down at His royal seat
In Heaven, asking him what is His plan
Shall we, through mercy live a life so sweet
To which He will reply: "Your fellow man...
Had you been merciful, in turn, to him?
Even though humbly at my feet you lay,
King though I am, I choose not at my whim:
In life, you laid the plans I read today.
Now since in life you tended to my sheep
Good faithful servant, you'll no longer weep. "